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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25522726">The Dogs.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguekiwi/pseuds/berserker'>berserker (roguekiwi)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV), Vikings (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Battle of the Bastards, F/M, Mentioned Ramsay Bolton, Soft Ivar, ivar x sansa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:33:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25522726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguekiwi/pseuds/berserker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivar/Sansa -- When the residents of Kattegat and the Heathen Army answer the call of the Free Folk they journey to Winterfell where they take part in the defeat of Ramsay Bolton. Ivar happens to catch Sansa in a private moment.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ivar (Vikings)/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Dogs.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>thanks for reading! for those that read my other piece on Sansa and Ivar this one will certainly be more than one part! would love to find someone interested in beta reading or something, whatever y'all want to call it these days.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the Free Folk had sent for help in the Battle of the Bastards they’d reached out to King Ivar and his heathen army -- as the locals seemed to call them. It had been years since the two groups had intermingled and it had been a long shot at best, but they’d answered the call nonetheless. The opportunity for new lands to explore and raids to be had was too tempting for some and Ivar had obliged, rallying his people and setting out. They would go and aid the ones in need while pursuing their own goals, though they had little to do with the Iron Throne -- a concept they weren’t quite sure they understood. The throne isn’t what made the King -- the attitude, the actions, those made the King.   </p><p>They’d arrived not long before Sansa Stark and The Knights of the Vale, rushing into battle to begin to break the shield wall that had been formed around the remainders of Jon Snow and his remaining allies. The Vikings had seen their fair share of brutality, but the fight they had been brought into seemed to surpass those. </p><p>Ivar had stayed perched in his chariot on the hill at first, watching the battle and surveying the body laden ground. A part of him was disappointed they had missed the beginning, though if they had been there, they surely wouldn’t have gotten the satisfaction of the surprise written across the faces of their opposition. </p><p>Sansa -- sat upon her horse and watching the chaos -- did not see him at first. Caught in her moment of watching her men descend into madness alongside his own as the retreat began. He would take the opportunity to join in the fun himself, making an entrance with a series of loud battle cries -- urging his warriors to fight harder, be stronger. What a wondrous time it was for them to seek Valhalla. </p><p>From the chariot he would make a show of taking out a few of the other men and horses alike -- the men with viciously thrown knives and the horses each with a swift blow of his axe, their riders tumbling to the earth to be trampled. Ivar would look back only once, searching for her on the hillside. Their eyes would meet from across the field and she would quickly look away, her hood slipping back to reveal an intricately braided swath of red hair. He would find those fiery locks burning a hole in him until he found her again, searching for her every opportunity he got.</p><p>The defeat was astounding, a recovery like no other. Though the Free Folk and Northmen alike suffered terrible losses, together they would pull through. The celebration that followed would be like somewhat of a feat itself, ripe with stories that would be told for generations to come. Ivar would find himself spending his night searching for her in the crowd. It was a ridiculous idea though, to think a woman who didn’t fight with her men would come celebrate with them. It seemed silly even in thought the longer he considered it. </p><p>He would fail to find the Stark woman that night, settling instead for asking a few drunken warriors about her to get some sense of what her story may be. In response he’d heard plenty -- stories of her father and brothers, the deaths of her parents, and her marriages. They had all mostly been superficial at best, nothing he hadn’t heard of his own people in their own halls. A few had stood out -- some of the rumoured brutalities she had suffered, but they had only been bits and pieces. </p><p>The more he thought about them, the more he felt he could have seen them in the hardened look on her face as her people had rushed into battle for her. It was rumored that she and her knights had watched the beginning of the bloody mess from the treeline, only coming to the rescue when they were sure to win. She may have been tougher than he had first thought, even though she didn’t fight alongside her men. </p><p>His night post-celebration would be spent tossing and turning as he tried to think of anything but her, though his dreams would make sure every second was filled with her. Sleep would fail to keep him and he would rise early, dressing himself before departing the chambers he had been so graciously offered. He would take his time moving through the courtyard, the sound of his crutch meeting the ground the only noise disturbing the cool, early morning air. On the back of a cart he would take a seat, bringing his legs up to rest in front of him as he tried to still his ever moving mind for a moment. </p><p>It’s from this perch that he would see her finally, appearing seemingly out of nowhere as she crept along the wall to a heavy iron door across from him. He knew the man was behind it, bound to a chair, delivered by himself and Hvisterk. If the rumours he’d indulged in were true, the man was her most recent husband, ousted from his control of the castle by their battle.</p><p>When she entered the kennel he would climb down off the cart, making his way over to peep through the bars on the window before tucking behind a pillar not far from the door. He could hear the unmistakable opening of cages and the snarling of several unhappy animals. From the sounds of it, she was getting her well deserved revenge.  </p><p>Moments later she would emerge, cheeks flushed. As the door to the kennel swung shut behind her Ivar felt the rare but unmistakable twitch of muscle against his thigh. Her eyes lifted to meet his, that barely there self satisfied smile slipping away as she realized she’d been caught. He beckoned her over to the shadowy nook he’d taken up in with the crook of a finger, propped up on a crutch and resting against the wall as he watched her.</p><p>With a hesitant glance around them Sansa stepped forward, steeling herself against whatever this might be turning into. “King Ivar,” she said curtly, dipping her head in a courteous nod. While they had yet to be introduced both seemed to be rather aware of the others presence -- she had done her own investigating, asking a few questions here and there before retreating to her chambers to escape the celebration. The answers she’d received had made her nervous, the level of brutality the Viking warriors seemed prone to well exceeded the level of violence she was willing to tolerate now that she was in control of her own life again. She had seen and experienced plenty already, so she was hoping to do her best to avoid them in fear of something else tumbling out of control.</p><p>The sound of his name coming out of her mouth would draw a smile out of him despite her tone. “Lady Sansa, yes?” He would propose it as a question even though they both knew better and she would nod once again. What should have been silence around them was disrupted by the low sound of the dogs steadily dismantling their now silent master, the irony was not lost on him and he suppressed a chuckle. “It wasn’t my intention to interrupt, I just wanted to ask if this was common here -- to feed a man to his dogs, I mean.” He would be lying if he denied his curiosity about the entire situation. </p><p>A fresh flush of pink bloomed on her pale cheeks and she looked away, across the courtyard. “No,” Sansa replied quietly, certain her face matched the hair hidden beneath her hood. However, she wasn’t ashamed of her actions, no. She was rather proud of them, it had been what he deserved and she would stand by it. The man in front of just looked at her with such an intensity she was unsure of herself for a moment. </p><p>Shaking that off and straightening up she looked back to meet that intense gaze once more, “But I would do it again. Is it common with yours?” The last word would come out so pointed Ivar would have sworn he’d felt it stab him in the gut. Despite her blush she would stay rather calm, lips pursued as she waited for an answer, suddenly aware of how close she’d gotten to him to stay out of sight. The heat rising on her cheeks was only a reflection of the heat she felt building in her belly. It was a feeling she wasn’t quite sure she understood, but a part of her wanted more -- to get closer, to ask questions she actually desired the answers to. </p><p>“Ouch,” he would murmur, laughing quietly as he searched her face for an indication on her true feelings behind the statement. It wasn’t his intention to come across as if he was judging her or to shame her and he hoped she would realize that. As a matter of fact, despite not even knowing of her until recently he was rather proud of her himself. “What is common with my people is women getting their revenge when they’re wronged.” He held his hands up in defense, a small smile still on his lips as he readied his crutch to leave. Something told them their people didn’t share the same ideals on the value of women, her personal experiences had sounded like they would reflect that as well. </p><p>Stepping out of the nook they had been occupying he turned back to her, giving her a nod and a sweep of his arm in a mock bow. “Again, I did not mean to interrupt. I suppose I really just wanted to… congratulate you, on getting what you were owed.” He hoped he wouldn’t be the only one, either. “Maybe I’ll see you at the feast this evening, if you’ll grace us heathens with your presence.” They had brought plenty with them with the intention to share -- a homebase like Winterfell for their people could mean many things for them. A good impression was everything and he didn’t want to spoil it by upsetting her more than he already had. </p><p>The day would pass by uneventfully, with burials being started, repairs being made to the castle and hunting parties formed by those who would remain for at least the winter. The grounds were busy, but relatively quiet. The celebration and noise would come that night, when all the food was cooked and the camps surrounding Winterfell were full again. Music from all directions would fill the air while Northmen, Norsemen, and Free Folk alike would succumb to the party. </p><p>In the hall it would take Ivar and Sansa time to reconnect despite only being a few feet from each other for most of the night -- both seated at the head table at opposite ends. Each having gone about their days considering how their next encounter might be with wildly contrasting opinions. He believed they may find themselves alone, engaged in conversation about how best to go about conquering the rest of her people’s land. While she merely hoped to avoid all conversations of marriage and commitments alike, still grasping her footing in her new role of Lady of the North. </p><p>Hvisterk, seated beside Ivar, would lean over to taunt him quietly after catching him staring at the girl a few times. “You can never settle for the help, can you? You have to pine over this noble woman..” he sat back in his chair, laughing to himself a bit. His brother would only swat him away, turning away from them both to watch the festivities taking place before them. </p><p>Jon Snow would be the one to finally bring them back together a bit later, breaking their conversation and stopping Sansa as she was passing by them to leave the hall. “I’m not sure if you’ve been properly introduced to our other savior -- my sister and Lady of the North, Sansa Stark.” She would flash him a smile as she extended a hand, mostly surprised he hadn’t mentioned to him their encounter that morning, but fumbling with something to say herself. It wasn’t often she found a man who wasn’t quick to brag about whatever compromising position he had found or put her in. In her experience, it was all most of them were looking to do. </p><p>As she opened her mouth to speak he would cut her off, speaking up first in an attempt to save her from being the one to begin the lie. “We haven’t been properly introduced, no,” Ivar took her outstretched hand, bringing it to his lips a bit too lightly for her current, confused, desire before letting go. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” it was possibly the most honest thing he could say. While he may have met a part of her that morning, this would be the part of her that was most prevalent, the one that was on display.</p><p>Unlike their first encounter she returned his smile this time, pleased he would apparently be keeping their interaction that morning to themselves. What she had done was common knowledge at this point in the day, but it had been a rather unattractive impression of herself to make considering the way she had spoken to him. There would be no hard feelings between them it seemed and for that she was thankful. At this point in time the last thing needed to do was bring more negative male attention on to herself, though Ivar didn’t have quite the same air about him that the others did -- his people might have been volatile heathens, but in the brief moment they’d interacted he’d managed to treat her better than most had seemed to recently. </p><p>“I should thank you for the feast tonight, I believe the things you brought with you all but overwhelmed the kitchen. It was a lovely surprise,” but they could hardly say no. She had been assessing the stores and without their overly generous gift they wouldn’t have been able to provide the feast they had for everyone, but they all deserved it. They had all suffered their fair share of tragedy and there was only more to come.  </p><p>Ivar nodded a bit, still smiling as he watched her face in the low light of the hall. “We look forward to bringing more,” if his assessment was correct, they would be hard-pressed to say no. It would make the pursuit of their other endeavours easy enough. They had no intention of taking her lands from her, but they might find a common enemy soon enough and he would strike when they could. Everything he had in motion relied on patience, specifically his own. For years he had relied on brute force and outsmarting his opponent, but now he would rely on something else -- something he hadn’t fooled with much. </p><p> An eyebrow rose on Sansa’s pale face as she silently questioned his intentions, but the Lady in her would win, quieting the harsher thoughts. “I’m sure we can arrange something,” she dipped her head in a nod before reaching out to pat Jon’s shoulder. “I must go, but I will see you soon,” turning to Ivar one last time she smiled. “It was nice to meet you, King Ivar,” she may have even been starting to believe it herself. </p><p>Leaving the men behind she would make her way out of the hall, trying not to rush but finding herself stepping faster the closer she got to exiting. If she had waited a moment longer he may have taken the opportunity to try and follow, something he had heavily considered to get her alone and she had picked up on. Instead, he would wait, enjoying the night while trying to remind himself that they had been brought together by chance a time or two already. If The Gods wanted it to happen, it would and he had plenty of plans that would allow them to bless him with the opportunity of getting her alone</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for checking it out, let me know what you think or any ideas you may like to see for the future! this was rather uneventful, but there should be more soon.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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